


Makes You Hard

by Kraellyk



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Begging, Bullying, Coming In Pants, Crying, Curses, Dean in Hell, Dubious Consent, F/M, Frottage, Gangbang, Homophobic Language, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Threesome, Torture, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 15:36:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1715750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kraellyk/pseuds/Kraellyk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for a prompt in the underage section of SPNKinkMeme:  Dean was cursed years ago, and they never figured out how to break it. When anyone touches him there he goes instantly, desperately hard and has to get off.  What I would like to read are those moments when he's groped without consent... say by a police officer, a dirty old man, a bartender, anyone you can think of that very presumptuously grabs Dean's crotch and gets an unexpected and pleasant surprise.</p><p>Original Prompt:  <a href="http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/85613.html?thread=32264557#t32264557">SPNKink-Meme</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Makes You Hard

**Author's Note:**

> **Please read the warnings!** Dean is underage when he's cursed and is with more than one adult before he comes of age. While under the curse, he's desperate for it, so it's not necessarily non-con, but it's not completely consensual either.
> 
> Even though I've listed John/Dean and Sam/Dean, the interaction is more accidental, and it's not at all sexual in its intent.

They had no idea who cursed him, and they didn't even really know when it happened, because Dean was a pretty horny kid, losing his virginity by the time he was eleven to the girl next door, who happened to be three years his senior.

John and Sam actually felt a little bad that they didn't notice much of a difference until John went to slap Dean on the leg, a fatherly gesture of affection while they were on the couch watching TV, and his hand was just a little too far north, his pinkie finger brushing Dean's crotch.

Fourteen-year-old Dean was up and humping John's right arm before any of them could blink. Sam and John stared at Dean for longer than either of them would care to admit because it was like a horrific accident, and they couldn't shake themselves out of the shock fast enough to stop him. Dean let out a groan, then a whimper, coming in his jeans.

Dean ran into his room, locking the door. When John finally broke his way in, his son was crying as he sat on his bed, face in his hands. Dean had thought he was just a horny kid, but the more John talked to him, coaxed him out of his mortified shell, the more John realized Dean's behavior wasn't as normal as they'd thought.

Which was a huge relief to Dean, because humping his father's arm hadn't been something he'd ever thought was all that sexy until he was doing it, and then it wasn't sexy again after he'd come in his jeans.

***

Sparring wasn't an option anymore for Dean. They'd learned that lesson the hard way. But for the most part, things worked out okay. Dean was careful, especially when he was getting close to someone he was interested in. Instead of necking and over-the-clothes groping in public like plenty of teenagers could get away with, Dean had to make sure he and his partner had privacy and that they were definitely interested in sex.

It concerned Dean, because he never wanted to take anyone against their will, but given Dean's looks, nobody ever minded it other than Dean himself. In fact, some people got a huge kick out of it, thinking Dean was just that into them. And the only reason Dean minded was because he hated appearing desperate.

***

Sam thought it was funny, once the initial shock wore off. It was also a great way to threaten his older brother. Dean didn't think it was funny.

“Dean, I really need to get home to study!” Sam whined.

Dean rolled his eyes. “You already studied for the test. Just go play some more games,” he said, waving him off as he set his sights on Angela, the cute girl from third period.

Sam scowled. “Yeah, but I want to study more. It' a hard test and it makes up a huge amount of my final grade this year!”

“Sam, knock it off!” Dean snarled. “You're a smart kid. It's only sixth grade social studies. You'll pass the test. Go play some games like a normal kid.”

Sam sighed, then turned to walk away. He froze as he remembered the curse. He'd teased Dean about it before, threatened once, but maybe Dean needed a reminder. Sam turned back around and walked up to Dean. Dean was too busy looking at Angela to notice Sam hadn't done as he was told, but the moment Sam brushed the back of his hand over Dean's hip, Dean took note.

Dean looked down at him, panic in his eyes. Sam smiled up at Dean, the back of his hand gently rubbing over Dean's lower stomach.

“I really need to study,” Sam said sweetly, as if he didn't have his hand near his brother's crotch, as if he didn't know that Dean would start humping the ficus plant next to him if Sam moved his hand just a little lower. It seemed Dean needed something living, but Sam wasn't sure if that included plant life.

“You wouldn't,” Dean growled, trying for scary big brother who would kick his little brother's ass, but really he just sounded desperate.

Sam was grounded for three weeks, Dean was banned from the mall, and Angela never spoke to him again, though she didn't press charges because he'd managed to come in his own pants. That's okay. Sam got to study, and they moved before Sam was done being grounded, so it didn't matter much anyway.

***

Dean didn't find it nearly as hilarious as Sam did when he came in his pants as he humped the dying body of a cockatrice after wrestling with it, but John was very proud Dean managed to kill the thing while nearly mindlessly rutting against it.

Truth be told, John was relieved. Bodily contact was a necessity in their line of work, and he'd worried Dean would be at a disadvantage.

***

She was much older than him, and if she'd been nicer looking, Dean would've happily let her grope him, but the motel manager was creepy even before she came around the counter to help him fill out the paperwork.

“Your last name goes there, sweetie,” she drawled as she put a hand on his lower back.

Dean sidestepped her, continuing to fill out the form. She didn't take the hint. Dean hadn't expected her to be quite so forward. If he had, he would've made sure he wasn't standing nearly as close.

“How long are you in town?” the woman asked, then grabbed his crotch.

Dean dropped the clipboard full of forms and the pen on the floor, shoving the manager against the front desk. Her eyes widened, but then she grinned as he pushed his hand up her mini-skirt, which really shouldn't have been worn by someone her age.

He had his dick out of his pants and was shoving his way into her before his brain caught up with what was going on, but he needed it. It felt so good even as he grimaced. She moaned, letting him grab the backs of her knees to hold her open wide for him as he pounded her into the desk.

He walked out of the office and handed the keys to his father, staring at the ground. John asked him if anything was wrong, but Dean just shrugged it off and took his duffel bag into the room. It may not have been his chosen partner, but it was still sex, and Dean had gotten off on it. He decided to keep condoms in his pocket at all times after that.

***

Dean had been with guys before. He was pretty much open to any kind of sex because in the end, everyone got off, and that's what really mattered to him. That didn't mean he was attracted to anything with a pulse, no matter how horny he was or how much his teenage hormones were ruling his brain.

He cringed as he saw the red and blue lights flashing in the rear view mirror. He was only fifteen, didn't have a permit or license, and there was no one else in the car. Dad had taught him how to drive. It wasn't a big deal. And all he was doing was heading to Sam's school to pick him up from the science fair.

Dean pulled over, wondering what the police officer would say he'd done wrong. “What's the problem, sir?” he asked, pushing respect and politeness into his voice even though he really didn't respect small-town officers. They used any excuse they could find to fuck with a person.

“You were going a little fast back there,” Sheriff Dixon drawled.

Dean smiled up at him. “I'm sorry about that. I really should pay more attention. I don't suppose you could let me off with a warning, could you?” he asked, charming smile in place.

The man shook his head, taking his sunglasses off and peering at Dean closely. “Do I know you?” he asked.

Dean shrugged. “I don't think we've met,” he said. And they hadn't met, though everyone in town knew who Sheriff Dixon was, including Dean.

“You're the new boy,” he said, pointing at Dean. “How old are you, kid?”

Dean chuckled, hoping he didn't sound nervous. “I'm sixteen, but I forgot my wallet at home,” he said.

“You're in the same class as my daughter, aren't you?” the sheriff asked.

Dean shook his head. “No, sir. I'm a year ahead of her,” he said, knowing Tricia was fifteen.

Sheriff Dixon frowned. “Step out of the car, kid,” he said as he backed up.

Dean did as he was told, feeling even more nervous. Dad was going to be pissed. He'd warned Dean to be careful and obey all the traffic laws if he did drive because if he got pulled over, he'd get in trouble. John didn't normally let Dean drive, but it was a very small town, and Dean took to driving like he was made for it.

“I really need to pick up my little brother from the science fair,” Dean said, looking sheepish. “I'm going to be late.”

“What's your daddy's number?” the man asked.

Dean froze. He hadn't been able to get away with charming the man, so now he needed to change tactics. “Please don't tell my dad!” he said, making his voice quiver and tears well up in his eyes.

The sheriff sighed. “Did you take the car without daddy's permission?” he asked, sounding very fatherly himself.

Dean looked down, as if ashamed, then back up at the man. “Yes, sir,” he said. “I'm really sorry. I didn't want to walk to the school. I was just being lazy. Please don't tell my dad. I won't do it again. I promise.”

Sheriff Dixon looked around, checking their surroundings. Dean didn't realize why until Dixon took another step toward him, leaning in just a little.

“It's my duty to make sure you kids are safe,” Dixon said, leaning in even closer, his breath ghosting over Dean's neck. “But if you're a good boy and you show me you're real sorry, I'll let it go this time.”

Dean shivered, and he wasn't acting this time. “I won't do it again. And I'm really sorry. I swear.”

He tensed as Dixon's hand caressed his side. Dean knew if he couldn't get out of this quickly, Dixon was going to get a surprise.

Dean backed up, his back hitting the car, but Dixon followed him, staying just as close. “Please, I just want to go home, sir,” he whispered.

Dixon chuckled. “You can go home right after you show me what a good boy you can be.”

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, a little turned on by the display of authority and the threat in Dixon's voice. Dean may have hated authority, bucking it any time he could, but when it came to bedroom games, Dean got a huge kick out of it.

Then Dixon's hand was on Dean's crotch, grabbing him tightly. Dean's whole body jerked as if he was hit by an electrical current, and before he knew it, he had his arms wrapped around Dixon's neck, his legs around Dixon's middle, and as he slithered against the man, he sucked on Dixon's neck.

Dixon stood still for a moment, obviously shocked, but it wore of quickly and he chuckled. “Well, now I guess you _are_ gonna show me you're a good boy.”

“Please fuck me!” Dean begged in between sucking and licking at Dixon's neck. “Please, it hurts! I need your cock in me!”

Dixon's hands cupped Dean's ass and it felt amazingly good. Dean shuddered against Dixon, gasping as he nearly came in his jeans.

“Door!” Dean blurted, then licked a stripe up Dixon's jaw. “Open the back door of the car. Hurry!”

Soon Dean was flat on his back, staring up at the Impala's roof lining while Dixon tugged Dean's jeans and underwear down. Dean's dick was throbbing, leaking all over his stomach. Dixon turned Dean over, making Dean even more desperate for it because of the ease with which Dixon manhandled him.

“Fuck me! C'mon! Fuck me, please!” Dean cried out, pushing his ass up and back toward Dixon.

“Calm down, kid,” Dixon said, chuckling.

“No! I can't! I need it!” Dean whined, writhing on the back seat.

“Okay, hold on,” Dixon said, then spread Dean's cheeks before spitting on his hole.

“Oh, fuck!” Dean mewled, his hands scrabbling for something to grab onto. “Hurry! C'mon! Just fuck me already!”

Dixon chuckled again, and it grated on Dean's nerves, which only made him more horny. Then Dixon was pushing into him, and Dean almost cried with relief.

“Oh! There, yeah, like that!” Dean moaned, the electrical current not quite as intense anymore.

Dixon fucked him hard and fast, the car rocking with his thrusts. Dixon didn't talk, didn't kiss his neck or back, and he didn't touch Dean's cock, but the friction Dean got from Dixon's rough fucking was more than enough, and as Dixon grunted and came inside him, Dean came all over the seat.

As soon as he came, the curse's intensity was gone and he was left with some guy's dick in his ass, his belly sticking to the seat beneath him. Dean gasped as Dixon pulled out. He was sore, but he'd live.

Dixon smacked Dean's ass. “I believe you're a good boy, kid. Don't let me catch you driving the car again. Next time, no matter how good a lay you are, I'm not gonna let it go.”

Dean panted against the seat, listening as Dixon zipped up and walked away. He heard the car's tires moving in the gravel, then he was alone again.

“Shit,” Dean hissed, slowly getting to his hands and knees.

The seat was a mess, as was his stomach, his shirt, and his ass. The car smelled of sex, and while Sam was still fairly young, he was really fucking observant. He had to do something to get the smell out of the car before he picked Sam up.

Dean found some holy water in the trunk and some rags, so he cleaned himself up, then wiped down the back seat. He rolled the windows down even though it was a little warm out and drove to the school that way, hoping to air out the car.

The look on Sam's face when he got into the car made Dean blush. “Really, dude?” Sam said.

“Shut up, Sam,” Dean grumbled, not looking at his brother.

“Did you fuck some girl in the back seat? Is that why you're late?” Sam asked, bitchy tone to his voice. “Or did you just accidentally touch your own dick and so you had to jerk off back there?”

Dean's grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Sam, just the fuck shut up about it. Please.”

And really, he should've known the 'please' would sound suspicious. He shouldn't have said it. Dean never begged Sam. Not unless it was really important. Sam was quiet for a few moments, and Dean could tell Sam was taking in everything, including the tone of Dean's voice.

“Who was it?” Sam growled.

Dean felt goosebumps rising on his arms. Sam had always been able to read him, which sucked at times like these. “Just some guy,” Dean said, shaking his head.

“Tell me who it is or I'm telling Dad,” Sam said, voice low and very threatening.

Dean winced. “Sam, just leave it alone.”

“No,” Sam said. “You're my brother, you're under a curse, and I'm not going to let it alone when you've got _that_ look on your face. If you would've wanted whatever just happened, you'd be giving me more details than I ever asked for. Which means you didn't want it. Now tell me what happened or I'm telling Dad.”

Dean sighed, wishing he was closer to the house. He didn't want to risk getting pulled over again, so he kept his speed down. “I was speeding.”

“A cop?” Sam asked.

“Not _a_ cop,” Dean hedged.

Sam nodded. “Did Sheriff Dixon force you or did he just get close and the curse took over?”

“He was strongly suggesting that I should do something for him in exchange for Dad being kept out of the loop,” Dean said. “But no, he didn't force me.”

“Not that it really matters when it comes to an adult authority figure,” Sam snarled. “He knew you were underage and he still shouldn't have done it whether you were humping his leg or not.”

“Okay,” Dean snarled right back, “that's enough. You said you'd drop it if I told you, so drop it.”

Sam snorted. “I never said I was going to drop it if you told me, and I sure as Hell never said I'd keep it from Dad.”

Dean's eyes widened as he pulled into the driveway. He turned the car off and then looked at Sam. “Sam, please don't do this.”

“Give me a good reason and I won't,” Sam said, looking very confident that Dean wouldn't have a good reason.

“Because Dad can't help me if he's arrested for killing Dixon,” Dean said.

Sam frowned, obviously not very happy with Dean's answer. “This is fucked up,” he whispered.

“Look, I don't want you to worry about this,” Dean said. “I'm a good fighter, and I could've taken Dixon down. I would've if he'd have hurt me, but I wanted it. I wanted it a lot.”

“Because of the curse,” Sam snarled.

Dean sighed. “I'm not going to make excuses for Dixon, but the guy didn't just jump me. He pushed some, but I'm the one that jumped him. Literally.”

“He knew better,” Sam said softly.

Dean nodded. “I know that. And I think you know me better than to think I'll leave town without doing something to that asshole.”

Sam looked up at him, his eyes widening, a grin spread over his lips. “Really?” he asked, looking excited.

Dean snorted. “You wanna help?” he asked.

Sam nodded. “Hell, yeah!”

They never got caught, but Sheriff Dixon sure did. Computers and the Internet weren't in everyone's houses in 1996, but they were used in small-town sheriff's offices, and Sam always did like playing with them.

A few videos and pictures left on the desktop and an anonymous tip was all it took. The hardest part had been keeping their stomachs from rebelling while they searched for said pictures and videos.

Dean clipped the article about the small-town sheriff who was arrested and sent to prison, saving it in his duffel bag, scrunched down under his clothes. He pulled it out every once in a while just to remind himself that he wasn't helpless just because he was cursed, even though he sometimes felt that way.

***

Dean had just turned seventeen, and though he was starting to fill out, the school bully decided Dean's new name was Twinkchester. Everyone else found it funny, and Dean had never been afraid of the little assholes that thought they could beat up fellow students in school, so when the guy tripped him in the locker room, Dean took him down.

“You gonna fight me, Twinkchester?” Mark sneered as he wrapped his legs around Dean.

“Stupid asshole,” Dean grumbled as he landed a punch to Mark's side.

Mark winced, his arms going out from under him as he fell down onto Dean, his hand gripping Dean's crotch. Dean growled as he felt the curse surge through him. He was immediately hard and leaking in his boxers. Mark still had his jeans on, but he had to have felt the bulge, and his eyes widened as he looked Dean in the eye.

The curse was taking over, and Dean couldn't help it. He started rutting up against Mark, whimpering as he tried to get more friction.

Mark grinned. “I knew it. You're a slut,” he said, shaking his head. “You want my cock?”

Dean nodded, pulling at Mark's hair with his right hand while the other fumbled between them, trying to get Mark's jeans open. He'd forgotten they weren't alone, so when a fellow student handed Mark a bottle of lube, Dean whimpered with relief. Mark wasn't a small guy, and though he wanted that cock inside him, being taken dry would've hurt.

The bottle was flicked open and Dean squirmed and panted as Mark shoved two lubed fingers into his hole. Dean heard the other guys leaving, but he didn't care. He just wanted to get fucked. He wanted to come.

“Ah! Fuck!” Dean yelped as Mark pushed in, using plenty of lube, but only having opened him with two fingers.

“Tell me you like taking that big cock, Twinkchester,” Mark said, putting a hand around Dean's neck as he fucked him.

He saw movement to his right, and he thought maybe one of the guys was jerking off, but he was too focused on Mark to pay any attention.

“Please fuck me,” Dean whimpered. “Harder. Fuck me harder.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” Mark said with a grin.

Dean's back arched off the floor as Mark pounded into him. Dean tried to reach between them to stroke his own cock, but Mark grabbed his wrists and pinned them over his head.

“Mark, please!” Dean begged. “I gotta come! Please let me touch my dick!”

“Nope,” Mark said, panting against Dean's neck.

Mark came with a grunt, slowing down and finally stopping. Dean was still desperate, his eyes filling up with tears.

“I gotta come!” Dean nearly wailed. “Please, Mark! Jerk me off or let me do it or something! Anything!”

Mark chuckled. “If you're such a slut, you should come on a cock.”

Dean did start to cry then. Tears ran down into his hair as he writhed and twisted, trying to pull his wrists out of Mark's grip. “Please! It hurts so fucking bad! Please let me come!”

“Shut the fuck up, you little slut!” Mark hissed as he covered Dean's mouth with his free hand. “You're gonna get us all in trouble.”

“Let me see if I can make him come,” someone else said.

Mark chuckled. “Sure, Curtis.”

Dean whimpered, grabbing for his dick as Mark and Curtis changed places, but Curtis pinned Dean's wrists again, and Dean was too desperate to wrench his hands away.

“You wanna see if you can come on my cock, Twinkchester?” Curtis asked, smiling down at him.

Dean nodded frantically. “Please. I wanna come. Fuck me, please! I gotta come!”

Curtis chuckled, then pushed into him. Dean nearly sobbed with relief as Curtis dropped down onto Dean, giving Dean's dick the friction it needed between their bellies. Curtis was even bigger than Mark, and it was a burn, but it felt amazing.

“C'mon,” Dean encouraged, pushing his heels again Curtis' ass. “Fuck me! C'mon, man. Make me come!”

Curtis licked his neck as he fucked him, then bit down. Dean yelped, so far gone that he didn't care if Curtis was leaving indentations. Curtis fucked him even harder than Mark did, and soon Dean was coming, releasing between them and slicking their bellies. The only reason the rest of the school didn't hear him scream is because Curtis kissed him through it, his orgasm triggered by Dean's.

Dean winced as Curtis pulled out. He could feel his asshole leaking and he covered his face, mentally kicking himself for fighting with Mark when his condoms were right there in the locker. He should've grabbed one before trying to beat the shit out of the guy.

“You wanna suck my dick?” Mark asked with a smirk.

“Fuck you,” Dean snarled as he stood up and got dressed. Mark seemed a little confused, as did Curtis, but Dad came home two nights later and announced they were moving again.

***

When Sam left for college, Dean kinda lost it for a while. Dad was concerned about him, but he was hurting as well. They were both a mess. Dean decided to drink the pain away, and since he could still play a damn good game of pool when he was nearly falling down drunk, it was a great way to make some money.

It was also a great way to fuck up your senses and spatial awareness. Dean thought he had an idea of where everyone was in the room, but realized too late that the guy who had been eyeing him up was actually behind him, and before he knew it he had the guy on his back, humping his leg as he pulled their jeans open.

The guy grinned up at him, but the owner of the bar wasn't too happy about it. Dean couldn't help it, and he really didn't notice the owner was pissed until he had his dick in hand and someone shoved him off the leg he was humping.

“I'm calling the cops unless you take it out back,” someone said, but Dean couldn't care less. He needed to fuck or get fucked, and since there was someone willing and half naked on their back, Dean fucked.

The guy yelped as Dean pushed into him, using only spit to slick the way, but soon enough the guy was panting and writhing beneath him. Seconds after he came, he was being dragged away in handcuffs.

They threw him in a cell with five other guys who looked like they'd had a really rough night. The guy Dean had fucked was in the next cell over, grinning like he'd won the lottery even though he was sitting in a jail cell.

“I get a phone call,” Dean growled after he'd been there for three hours.

The police officer he'd growled at stopped and looked at him, her head tilted to the side. “You want a phone call after you just got arrested for fucking that guy in front of an audience?” she asked as she pointed toward the guy in the next cell.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yes, I want a phone call.”

She shrugged. “We're kinda busy,” she said. “Fucking faggot,” she mumbled as she walked away.

Dean sighed. Great. It was going to be a fun night. He hoped no one else in the precinct was a homophobic asshole. He flopped down onto the bench, letting his head fall back and rest on the wall as he closed his eyes. Which was a really stupid thing to do.

He moaned as someone grabbed his crotch, then he was moving before he even thought about it. Dean was straddling the man's lap, rubbing his very hard dick over the man's jeans and shirt, and Dean couldn't even remember having taken his dick out of his jeans.

Just as he was about to start begging the man to fuck him or do something, someone else grabbed his crotch from behind.

Now, Dean had done a few threesomes over the years, and they'd been amazing. The curse was strong enough when one person touched him, but with two people touching him, it was enough to make him come until he passed out.

The next few minutes were a blur of clothes being shredded and yanked off, faces, hands, cocks, moaning, begging, and pure ecstasy. Later, in his own personal cell, he tried to remember what had happened, but still it was a blur of at least two different cocks in his ass, three different cocks in his mouth, and his cock in someone's ass. He knew he'd passed out when he came, and when he woke up, he had his own cell.

Dean had no idea what the other officers had seen, but soon Dad was picking him up, flashing his FBI badge and gruffly cuffing Dean and pushing him out the front door, saying something about male nymphomaniacs and how hard they were to catch, playing it up for the officers watching.

“I'm not going to tell you that was stupid,” John said as he drove them away from the city, then the state. “You already know that. But if you don't stop feeling sorry for yourself and work through this, you're gonna end up in prison. And believe me, this curse in prison wouldn't be funny.”

Dean stayed silent, resting his head against the window. The next motel they stayed in, John found them a hunt, but he made Dean swear he was going to knock that shit off or they wouldn't be hunting together anymore. Dean agreed, knowing he was hurting himself and Dad.

***

Once they got back to hunting, Dean being more careful about how much he drank even when he wanted to just forget about Sam, it was easier. He and John had always worked well together, and they continued saving lives.

It had been a year since Sam left, they were both moving on, though they did check up on Sam when they could.

They were chasing an imp through the forest when John tripped, taking the both of them down because Dean had been close to him as they ran, the branch John had tripped over catching Dean in the leg.

“Fuck!” John swore as the ended up sprawled on the forest floor, their limbs tangled together. “Don't fucking move!” he barked.

But it was too late. Dean was already whining and squirming. “Please, Dad,” he whimpered. “I gotta come. Please, just let me come!”

“Dean, stop,” John growled, pushing Dean away.

Dean's eyes welled up with tears as he desperately looked around for something else, anything. He'd never been able to come unless he was at least touching someone. Dad wasn't going to help, but he needed to come, so he unzipped and pulled his dick out, stroking it as he kneeled in the leaves.

John sat up and sighed, keeping his eyes down, but time seemed to stretch on and on. Tears were running down Dean's cheeks and he was panting as he stroked his cock.

“Dean, come here,” John said, grabbing Dean's left arm and pulling.

Dean didn't hesitate. He couldn't. It hurt too much and he needed to come. All he knew was that Dad was going to fix it, so he let John push him into position, straddling John's right leg, then he started humping. It didn't take long before he was coming all over John's jeans, and as soon as he was spent, he flopped onto his side on the ground, worn out because it had taken so long to come.

“Sorry,” Dean croaked.

“It's okay,” John said. “It's not your fault.”

“Still sorry,” Dean said.

“It's not the first time you've humped me,” John said with a wry grin, “and it might not be the last.”

Dean snorted. “I'd appreciate it if you weren't quite so understanding about this.”

John chuckled. “You're my kid. I'd rather you didn't have to go through any of this, and if there was another option I'd take it, but I can't stand by and watch you suffer when I know I can help.”

Dean got to his hands and knees, then stood up, brushing the leaves off his jeans. “Can we just say the stain on your jeans is from the fall?”

John laughed as he took Dean's hand and stood up. “I landed in a puddle. Didn't you see the puddle?”

Dean shook his head, chuckling as they started heading back to the Impala to start looking for the imp all over again.

***

Dad promised never to mention the incident in the morgue. No, it wasn't a dead body, but Dean had a hard time looking his father in the eye after the coroner had made a turn too fast and bumped into Dean while they were investigating a series of deaths.

The coroner had a great time, but he was a screamer, and John had really wanted to take a look at those bodies. John never did let things like that get in his way, even if he had to step over them.

***

Dean went to Hell, where Alastair found the curse hilarious, so he left it in place. Dean had no idea curses could follow you to Hell, but there was nothing he could do about it.

He wondered if the person who cursed him was in Hell, and when Alastair would leave him alone, he'd dream of finding that soul. He knew exactly what he wanted to do to it.

It took him only two years after he came down off the rack, but he found her. She'd sneered at him, recognizing him. She told him he'd been a little pervert, going after her little sister like he had, and that's why she'd cursed him.

Dean had been furious. Her little sister had been a slut, having lost her virginity long before he'd lost his own to her, and she'd been the one to initiate things between them to begin with. Her older sister didn't believe him, insisting he was a sick little boy and deserved the curse she'd put on him, deserved anything that had happened to him since.

He did everything to that soul he'd dreamed of and much, much more.

***

Dean fell in love. Hard. He'd only been topside for a short period of time when he knew the curse was gone, and the moment he found out who had taken it away, who had built him a new body that didn't include the curse he'd had since he was eleven years old, he cried, and then he showed his appreciation by teaching his angel to be human and giving him a reason to fight everything he'd ever known, giving him a reason to fall.

Castiel returned the favor, even though he didn't have to, by cursing Dean once again. Cas told him it wasn't a curse, but Dean didn't believe him, because every time Cas would touch him anywhere, Dean was desperate for him. But that was okay. Dean didn't mind being cursed so much anymore.

The End


End file.
